


Everyday Life with Mental Illness

by cassietheteenagewitch



Category: Doki Doki Literature Club! (Visual Novel)
Genre: F/M, Mental Health Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-25
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-08-29 10:23:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 18,921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16742215
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cassietheteenagewitch/pseuds/cassietheteenagewitch
Summary: Taking a certain "poem" literally and applying just a bit of Alternate Character Interpretation (and once again ignoring the meta nature of the source), MC keeps a diary of his relationship with Sayori.





	1. (1) Night Terrors

“MC, I had a bad dream… can I come over?”

I stare at the phone’s screen, half-blinded despite the brightness being all the way down. Blinking away sleep, I yawn and rub my eyes, trying to speed up the process. It’s an unfortunately familiar thing to wake up to- goes back to when Sayori and I were kids. The first time, she scared the hell out of me, throwing rocks at my window from the backyard on a stormy night. As we grew up, this turned to calls, and then texts. Back home, it was a little more of a challenge- whether she was coming to my house or I was going to hers, one of us ended up having to climb to the second story. My house was a little easier- we had a little outbuilding Dad had built on the side of the house to keep the various recycling bins in, and you could easily shimmy up the guttering to the roof outside my window from there.

Now, meeting up was less work, more of a walk. Out apartment buildings aren’t five minutes away like our childhood homes -it’s more like twenty, now- but twenty minutes versus falling off the side of the house because it’s icy or rainy and the gutters are slick… pretty clear winner.

“Of course. I’ll have a cup of tea waiting on you :3” I send back, hoping she doesn’t change her mind halfway again. As the phone’s screen blinks off, I find myself blinded again, eyes focusing on an inverted square of like that isn’t there anymore and flashes anytime I look in a different direction. After a brief fight with the bedclothes, I stagger out of bed and into the living room of my little apartment, groggily turning on the bedroom light behind me and closing the door halfway as I do- just enough light to see, not enough to burn my retinas any further. I end up leaning on the kitchen counter for close to ten minutes, drowsing on my elbows, fighting back sleep. Doesn’t get any easier, waking up at three in the morning on a school day like this, but it’s my burden to bear.

Maybe “burden” is the right word, isn’t the word I should use. It’s never been work, looking after Sayori. It’s never been intrusive, or annoying… she’s been my best friend as long as I can remember. We’ve always sort of looked out for each other, even before we realized either of us was doing it, before things got… weird.

I fill the kettle with water and set it to boil. Should still have enough time for the tea to be ready and a little cooled by the time she gets here.

 

Her nightmares started when we were eight, I think. It’s been such a long time now that I can’t remember when exactly that first night was, just that it happened. They’ve always been disorganized, coming and going, random clusters. Sometimes every day of the week, sometimes none for months. The first few years, when we were young, there wasn’t anything particularly worrying or upsetting about it; I remember being worried, as much as a kid could be, but it never affected how I saw Sayori. Most of the time, if it was bad enough, she would ask to come over and sleep with me, or for me to come to her, on the worst nights.

Her parents put her through a gauntlet of child therapists and psychologists, several extended stays at different child psychiatric hospitals outside our prefecture, a trip to a world-renowned child psychologist somewhere in Europe when we were twelve. Despite all of that, neither cause nor cure could be found, and what few things the various professionals who studied her tried had little effect. Some of the medications made it worse; the worst of them was the one that drained all her energy and left her a tired, easily-weepy zombie-shell of a human being. Eventually, though, everyone stopped trying, Sayori included- with no real adverse effects outside the occasional loss of sleep, it was just easier for us to get together on the bad nights.

That complacency is probably how -or why, maybe- she almost killed herself in high school. I… don’t think I’ll ever know that, for sure, without asking, and I can’t ask. I don’t anymore, with how she locked up any time I tried in the past but… it bothers me, too. Sometimes I wonder if someone else had found her, maybe she would be okay to talk about it...

One of the psychiatrists diagnosed her with depression when we were twelve or so. I’m a little ashamed I can’t remember the date on that, either, but it’s not like it’s an anniversary or a birthday. Not like I can ask about it without making Sayori feel self-conscious, or worse, _bad_ , either. It may or may not have been related to the nightmares, they said, the lack of sleep, fear of falling asleep where the bad dreams could get to her. She was only on the medicine for that for a few months before she stopped taking it, and I don’t know if it even helped, because I had no idea she’d been diagnosed until five years later.

That “five years later” happened in the aftermath of her trying to hang herself after a particularly rough day at school. If I hadn’t found her before it was too late…

 

The timer dings, and I drop a bag into each cup before pouring boiling water over them. My timing is about right, should only be a few more minutes before Sayori’s knocking on my door. At worse, by the time she’s in and I lock back up and we get comfortable, it should be cool enough to drink.

 

I don’t want to think about that day any more than I want to think about another day about a week after it, but I can’t help it. It happens a lot, those memories creeping in, with the wait between her call or text and showing up for these late night cuddle-calls.

It was a pretty, sunny day in late April. I got to leave school a little early, so I could take Sayori’s work to her. Not a cloud in the sky, it was warm but not hot… a good day sit outside and read, or hang out with one of the friends I had made after Sayori dragged me into joining the Literature Club. It gets a little harder to remember the further we get from it, but I think I was actually supposed to study for a test with Monika that afternoon and ended up canceling after…

Sayori wasn’t in a great mood when I got there. She hadn’t really been in the best spirits pretty consistently the entirety of her stay in the hospital, and honestly, it was hard to blame her, considering why she was there in the first place. Never rude, just… distant. Not upset, more… moody. Not how I was used to seeing her most days, bright, bubbly… the light of any room she was in, except that one, it seemed. I went to see her every day, and it seemed like every other day up to that point, she’d either asked me to leave, or just stopped talking, almost cold-shouldering me to the point of uncomfortableness. That day, I figured enough time had passed since… _then_ … it wouldn’t be too smothering to stop a bakery on the way and get half a dozen cupcakes for her. Anything would be better than hospital food, right?

Sayori didn’t seem impressed by the cupcakes. She smiled as she told me to set them on the cabinets in one corner of the room, but something about it felt… off. Hollow. In hindsight, it was achingly familiar, a fake grin I’d seen so many times over the years we’d been friends, but never realized what was kept bound and gagged behind it. I set both the cupcakes and my school bag on the cupboards and pulled up a chair beside her bed; she just sat there, looking a weird mix of happy-sad, nothing saying anything at first.

I had been there a least half an hour every day of the week she had spent in that hospital bed, and in that time, we talked pretty extensively about how she had been struggling with the crushing despair that had led her here over the last few years. Clearly a raw subject, but one she brought up; I hoped talking about it might do her some good, if she could just get it off her chest… some days I’m still not sure if that was the right decision. I hope she doesn’t think about it as much as I do.

I… feel like it’s _my_ fault, sometimes. After all, that particular episode was brought on after she told me she was in love with me, and I just sort of stammered out that I didn’t know how to respond to that like the clueless idiot I am. I must have played that scenario out in my head dozens of times in that first week, and thousands of times since. I guess in the end, it doesn’t _really_ matter what I answered, since I found her that day… I just can’t help but wonder.

That day in the hospital, though, she didn’t bring up depression. No, Sayori dropped another bomb on me that warm spring day.

“MC, have you ever… uhm…” Her index fingers touched beneath the sheet, an anxious tic. I waited for her to continue; not knowing what she was trying to say, I didn’t know how to encourage her to spit it out. “Uhm… ehm…” Her cheeks flushed, embarrassment mixing with the happy-sad, maybe the first real emotion she had shown since that first day. “C-can I… c-can I…” I had to fight off the impulse to say “yes?”, to prod her into continuing. “C-can I t-tell you something? Y-you have to promise not to- n-not to tell anyone…” The stuttering got worse the more she said. Even when she was nervous about something, it wasn’t like her to lose control of her speech like that. I found myself a little more jittery with each word, wondering what was coming next.

“Of course?” I hadn’t meant that to be a question. Shit. “Of- of course, Sayori. I won’t say a word, unless you want me to.”

“I… uhm… I-I…” With how open she had been about the depression, about trying to kill herself just a week before this, that she couldn’t get whatever she was trying to say out was concerning. No, it was _worrying_. For a moment, I was afraid the conversation might have been heading towards some fucked-up-Sigmund-Freud-shit; as it turned out, I had the wrong psychologist, but I wasn’t that far off. “I… hear things sometimes…”

“Uh…” _Uh…_ what do I say to that? “ _Oh_ .” Oh. Good… great response, MC. Ten outta ten, hundred outta hundred, best response, best response. A-game, perfect, _suave_ , ladies’ man, Master of Romance, _interplanetary intrapersonal skills_.

I could tell, almost _instantly_ , that I had fucked up, and this was _not_ the response she was hoping for. I’ll never forget that look, like I’d just caught her cheating on a test. Scared, sick, exhausted. Maybe she was looking for some kind of reassurance, and I’d just let her fall. _Fuck_.

There wasn’t any way to salvage the conversation after that. Sayori stonewalled me _immediately_ after I lost the ability to words good, and every time for the week that followed. I still went to the hospital every day, with flowers, candy… Natsuki helped me bake a cake one of the days, and Sayori wouldn't look either of us in the eye when we brought it to her. She was allowed to go home after that second weekend, and another full week passed before she said so much as a single word to me. By then, she was back in school, and we had resumed walking home together, albeit on opposite sides of the road because she wouldn’t even walk near me.

My phone buzzes, and frankly, it startles the shit out of me. I jump, the kettle still in my hand coming with me, _very_ narrowly avoiding hot water shooting up into my face as it flies off the counter and onto the floor. Suddenly incredibly awake, adrenaline surging and heart pounding, I unlock my phone and she that she’s here. Shaken from my reminiscion, I head around the counter to the door and let her in.

Her eyes don’t meet mine. She’s embarrassed, and mumbles “thank you” as she pushes past me into the apartment. I mention the tea but she ignores me, or maybe doesn’t even hear me. Instead she makes a beeline for the couch, which she half-falls onto.

Before I’ve even closed the door, she’s ugly-crying and trying to hide it.

I bring the two teacups over and set them on the small table next to the unoccupied side of the couch, then sit beside Sayori and put an arm around her shoulder. There’s no point in talking when she’s like this… just have to wait it out. She curls herself against me, face buried in my chest, and I pull a ratty, old blanket around her- it’s one I’ve had since we were kids, and kept all this time specifically for her.

We sit there like that for so long that the tea goes cold. No big deal; it can always be reheated. More troubling is that this crying spell is lasting a lot longer than usual without letting up, and that worries me a little, like something happened. I mean, something _had_ to have happened for her to be like this, just what that something might be is what bothers me. Instinctively, I check her neck, finding nothing, no marks or burns; it stills my nerves somewhat, but my fear is replaced by a red-hot wave of shame, that I don’t trust her enough, to think that she might try again…

Maybe I should have splashed a little whiskey into my cup before I let her in.

 

“Eh- ehehehehm-ceeeeeeee…” Between shuddering, she tries to speak. She’s not sobbing anymore, but the shaking must be out of her control still.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay, just wait it out.” I hug her a little tighter, kissing the top of her head. “Just wait, okay? Wait until it’s not so hard to talk. I’m here, I’m not going anywhere.” I sneak a look at my phone. Close to six. Probably smarter to just skip class today… no point in trying to sleep before I have to leave for it, at least. This is infinitely more important than one day of lessons, anyways.

It’s almost seven before Sayori speaks again. “Th-they’re back…” It’s a weak, hoarse croak, but she might as well have shouted it. Despite the words being half-whispered, it reminds me of how she screamed when I couldn’t figure out how to respond to the first time she said she loved me.

“Okay.” But it’s been three years since that day in the hospital. I’ve learned. _We’ve_ learned. “They can’t hurt you, Sayori. They’re not real, no matter what they tell you.”

“I-I know, MC, they’re just- it’s so loud… I’m scared… I woke up from a bad dream and they were all screaming at me and I couldn’t get up… I’ve been up since eleven. I wet my pajamas because I was too scared to get out of bed. It’s just-” Her voice just cracked. I squeeze her a little harder, hoping she won’t start crying again if I’m here this time. “It hasn’t been this bad in such a long time…”

“It’s okay, it’ll be okay.” It feels weird to keep saying the same thing over and over again, but the repetition gives her something to focus on. “We’ll take the day off, see if your therapist can work you in. I’ll make breakfast?”

“Pancakes?”

“With little fruit faces.”

“Ehehe…” She smiles up at me. “Can I use your shower?”

“Yes?” Weird question. Probably better not to question it, though. “I moved your clothes, they’re on the shelf in the closet now. So you know.”

Sayori squirms out of my arms and almost falls off the couch in the process. Despite the tears still running down her face, she’s smiling, and I feel a little less alarmed. After pushing herself the rest of the way off the couch, she leans down and kiss me on the cheek before disappearing into my room. I wait until I hear the shower running before I get up and begin to fix breakfast.

I have a feeling it’s going to be a long day.


	2. (2) Band-Aid Covers the Bullet Hole

It’s been three weeks since Sayori woke me up in the middle of the night. When I write it out like this, with no context (and assuming you’re not one of those freaks that skips around a page as you read), that seems like a great thing. One long night, getting back into regular therapy, and a higher dose later, and everything is okay.

Unfortunately, that is not the case.

On the one hand, it is true that she hasn’t woken my up in the middle of the dark since then. On the other, this is mostly because she’s been at my place more than her own these past few weeks. The five or six days she hasn’t, I’ve found myself waking up after a few hours of sleep anyways, and I always end up checking on her.

This isn’t the first “flare-up” she’s gone through since I learned that she was schizophrenic, but it’s still… uncomfortable is the only way I can think to describe it. I’m not afraid of her, just…  _ for _ her. I don’t  _ want _ to send that text at three or four in the morning when she’s not here; every time I have, she’s turned out to be okay, but I’m so damn scared if I don’t act on that feeling when it happens…

She hasn’t asked me to check on her -and I don’t think she ever will, to be honest- but if  _ I _ don’t, I’m scared no one else will, and if she thinks she’s dealing with this alone again…

I still don’t know how else to describe this as anything but a “burden.” That’s wrong. I don’t like typing it out, I fucking  _ hate _ thinking it. Sayori is  _ not _ a burden, she’s my friend. She’s my  _ best _ friend. But I still find myself thinking it, and then immediately feeling bad for it. This isn’t an everyday occurrence, it isn’t a “most days” occurrence. Every other time this has happened, it’s lasted a month, two or three at most, and once she adjusts to the higher dosage or the change in medication, everything is back to “normal,” whatever that means. I just have to remember that, that this  _ isn’t _ “normal.” This is the halfway point, hopefully, and it’ll get better. It has to.

 

It’s never any easier to watch. At least with her, it’s never like what you seen in movies. Sayori doesn’t fight with the voices, doesn’t even acknowledge them, from what I’ve seen. They aren’t present all the time, either. They come and go like ghosts, disappearing and reappearing from the walls at the worst times possible. During dinner, in the middle of the night, when we’re crowded onto my twin-sized bed even though she has a queen in her apartment. When I’m at school, or my part-time job at the bookstore.

Some are worse than others. Sometimes it’s enough for her to put her hands over her ears for a bit (not totally sure this actually does anything to help, maybe more of a comfort thing?) and she’s okay. More often than not, though, she just goes blank and freezes up in the middle of whatever she’s doing, like she just got the news that someone close to her died after a long, drawn-out fight with leukemia. Sometimes it stays there, sometimes it gets worse. More than once, it’s led to hours-long panic attacks that I can’t do anything to help. Those are the worst for me, sitting there completely helpless. I always try to make sure she’s comfortable, but it’s like I’m not even real.

She’s ended up having to take the semester off from school. I tried to help her with homework for that first week, but it wasn’t long after that that it progressed to where we are now, where she’s afraid to go out in public. We’ve gone out together on some of the better days, but I think she doesn’t want to go out because she’s scared something with happen if she goes out alone. I don’t actually  _ know _ if that’s the reason, since we don’t really talk about the problems her illness causes too much, but that’s my best guess. I’ve tried to get her to go out with friends -not sure how many know about her illness, but I can think of a few that do and are still relatively close to where we live- but it never seems to work out. As much as I hate to even think this, I’m starting to think she might not even be trying when it comes to that.

That’s okay, though, I guess. I shouldn’t judge her for that… don’t think I’d want to be around other people if I had to deal with something like that, either. I don’t resent her for it or anything, it’s just- it gets to me sometimes.

We’ll get through this. We always do.

[ It can’t rain all the time... ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=QfZzkhfz89c)


	3. (3) Love Becomes a Ghost

I’ve been having these weird dreams lately. I know it’s from stress, but that doesn’t really help. Knowing that doesn’t make them not happen, or the memory of them go away.

 

It’s always the same.

I wake up; it’s still dark, so I try to go back to sleep, tossing and turning until the sun starts to rise, and then a little longer still. Eventually I give up, getting up a little earlier than normal. It’s the day of the festival- the end of the first week after Sayori dragged me into joining the Literature Club. All of us got together yesterday at Sayori’s house -well, all of us except Monika, who was working out some last minute planning issues- to work on our booth.

We made a banner, we baked cupcakes, Sayori and I even made extra flyers to hand out as reminders for anyone who might be interested in joining. Natsuki left the cupcakes at Sayori’s house when she went home, afraid the extra trip might ruin all the hard work we put into decorating them; I can’t say I disagree. I ended up taking them over to my place, though- as much as I hate to say it, it’s kind of hard to trust Sayori to be on time.

I shower, get dressed, and head out the door, two cupcake carriers in front of my chest. Passing Sayori’s house, I stop and consider waking her up, but… something weird happened yesterday. We’re both in a weird place, and I don’t really know if me being the first thing she sees this morning is a good thing or not.

 

Sometimes that’s where it ends, where I wake up, a dread-knot so strong in my stomach it takes everything I have not to vomit. I usually end up sleeping on the ratty couch in the living room those nights, if Sayori’s over. That anxious anticipation I’m left with when I wake up at the halfway point is as bad as when the dream carries all the way through to the end, maybe worse, and it always takes me hours to fall back asleep afterwards, if I manage to sleep anymore at all.

When I don’t wake up in the middle, though, I hover at the gate to Sayori’s house for a few minutes before deciding to head on to school. The trek to school is uneventful, and although there are more students here than I expected to see this early, the walk to the Literature Club classroom is relatively quiet. I’m surprised to see Monika already there, setting up the banner we made yesterday; that must mean Yuri is here somewhere, too. Or maybe Monika just picked it up from her yesterday. Or Yuri could have come back by the school on her way home… guess it doesn’t really matter how it got here, I guess.

“Oh, MC! Good morning! I didn’t expect you so early!”

“Good morning, Monika.” I set the cupcakes down on the teacher’s desk and squint through the semi-transparent plastic of the carriers. They all seem to be intact… good. Natsuki won’t try to fight me like she swore she’d do if any harm came to them… hopefully. “I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I figured I’d just go ahead and come in. Is there anything I can do to help?”

“No, I think everything’s set up the way we need it to be. Have you heard from any of the girls this morning?”

“No? Should I have?”

“Well… no one was really excited to be here, I don’t think. Based off your reactions the other day, anyways. I’m just a little worried we might be missing someone when the festival begins.”

“Oh…” She has a point. _I_ wasn’t particularly enthused by the idea when she dropped it on us the other day, either. She didn’t really give us much of a choice, or much time to plan for the event, either. It’s actually really unfair, now that I think about it. “I don’t have anyone’s number but Sayori’s. I’ll call her if you call Natsuki and Yuri?”

“Uhm… actually… no, no, that’s good. I’ll call them. You should maybe just go get Sayori, though. She’s been having a tough time lately-” I’m forced to flash back to yesterday afternoon, after Yuri and Natsuki left. I curl into myself a little and hope Monika doesn’t notice. “And she might not answer her phone.”

Does she know? It occurs to me that I don’t really know how close Sayori is to any of the other girls. I mean, they have to be friends, they’re in this club together and have been for a couple months now, but I don’t know the extent of any of their relationships. “Sure, that might be a better idea,” is what I say, but really I’m kicking myself for not waking her up when I had the chance. I should have. It would have been awkward, but I should have sucked it up and done it anyways, because weird place or not, Sayori’s my best friend. She would have done the same thing for me, despite her demons.

Shit, now I really feel bad.

I hustle out of the classroom, hoping for all the world that I’m out of sight before Monika has a chance to notice my face turning red.

I manage to keep calm until I walk through the school’s double doors.

I’m able to keep my pace at a brisk walk until I’m on the other side of the road from the school. After that, I start to jog.

By the time I’m at the end of the block, I’m running.

 

Through the fog of the dream, it’s kind of hard to describe what I’m feeling in that moment, since it never really happened. Dread, anticipation, the same kind of thing when I wake up halfway through it, but at the same time, somehow different. That itchy feeling of something awful right around the corner, something waiting to jump out and scare you, then kick you in the face while you’re down. I want to compare it to a loved one slowly dying from something untreatable over a drawn-out period of time, but I’ve never experienced that, so I don’t know if the metaphor works or not. It’s the best one I have, though.

I’m sweating and out of breath by the time I get back to Sayori’s house. I don’t bother with the gate, planting both hands atop the wire fence and vaulting it. For my stunning feat of athleticism, I’m rewarded with a slightly twisted ankle and a bruised knee, but this only slows me down- it’s not enough to stop me. I’d drag myself with no legs if I had to at this point.

Sayori’s parents are long gone by now. I let myself in, like I used to so often as a kid, and call out for my friend. No answer. I call her phone, despite what Monika said, and the club president is proven right when Sayori doesn’t answer. No choice, then. I half-sprint, half-stumble up the stairs to her room, and stop, my hand on the knob. “Sayori?” I call out once more, knocking on the door at the same time. Still no answer.

I gently open the door; it seems like the right way to.

 

I woke up at this point, once. It wasn’t the first time, and despite not seeing it, I knew what would have happened had I stayed asleep. It’s almost as bad as waking in the middle.

I gently open the door; it seems like the right way to.

I’m immediately hit with a strong, unpleasant smell. I might have recognized it sooner had I not pushed the door open to see Sayori hanging from the ceiling, or rather, Sayori’s body. It’s a dream, I tell myself every time I wake up; it didn’t happen, even if I keep seeing it over and over and over again. But I can’t unsee it. She’s in her sleep clothes, a pink top and tiny red shorts. The skin around her throat is red and raw and crusted with old blood- she realized her mistake, or at least had a change of heart, and she died fighting. Her hands, dangling limp at either side, are in the same condition. Her neck has been pulled up, or more accurately, her body has been pulled down, by gravity, giving her an unnatural, inhuman appearance. The purple-blue of her face contrasting the ghastly, ghostly white of the rest of her exposed skin doesn’t help, either.

The light is gone from her eyes, and I can feel it leaking out of my chest like I’ve been shot.

I want to say that it plays out differently each time, that I react differently, like my subconscious is somehow learning. That would be a lie, just like it would be a lie to say I don’t lose my shit. I fall to my knees, every time, and the sounds I make should never come out of a human mouth. I pound the floor until my knuckles bleed, howling all the while. Eventually, I come to my senses, but I’m stuck on the floor until I can summon the will to stand again.

And then I struggle to boost Sayori up until the noose is no longer around her neck. I don’t know what else to do. I cradle her on the floor and cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry. And cry.

And then I wake up. No instance of the dream ever progresses past that point. Maybe I don’t know what I would do. I mean, I _don’t_. Die, maybe. Kill myself, if I didn’t. Hang myself with the same rope. Maybe I wouldn’t have the energy to do it, in real life. In the dream, I haven’t spent the past three years helping Sayori manage her illness. In the dream, I’m not constantly exhausted whenever things get bad like this.

It’s just a stress dream, though. Like all bad things, it’ll pass. It keep coming back, but it’ll pass. I just have to stay positive. For her, more than me. I can’t afford to worry about myself now, Sayori needs me to be strong.

It’s just a dream, after all. I slowly sidle my way to the bottom of the bed -I’ve gotten good at getting up without waking her, despite the bed barely being big enough for the both of us- and get up. I make sure to cover Sayori back up, like I always do. Then I head to the beat-up old couch to mindlessly watch TV until the sun comes up, or I fall asleep.

Tonight, I think the sun might beat me.


	4. (4)- The Boy Who Could Fly

I woke up this morning and Sayori wasn’t in bed.

 

I panicked. I can admit it. I was alone when I shouldn’t have been.

The nightmares have gone away, but I still remember them as vividly as some memories. (That’s a lie; they, or it, since it’s always the same thing, still happen at least once a week, but it’s not every other day anymore, at least.)

There wasn’t one this morning, but I woke up dreamless, disoriented. I didn’t process that my hand was pawing at empty air at first, but the cold spot on the sheets that should have been warm triggered something in my lizard-brain that woke me up more than anything I’ve ever experienced so far in life. Like waking up from a “naked in class” dream to find out your dad’s dead, and also you slept through two different exams because you made the poor choice of popping a couple ADHD pills to stay up all night studying and crashed  _ hard _ sometime before dawn.

 

I panicked. I can admit it. I was alone when I shouldn’t have been. It was still dark.

I slid out of bed before my brain had much of a chance to wake up, to notice much of anything. The sheet was tangled around my ankles, wrapped around one leg. I say (write) “slid” out of bed because I tried to jump, but my legs were bound together, and I faceplanted on the carpet. The combination of sleep and adrenaline kept the pain minimal, but it wasn’t like I had time for that. I called out for Sayori as I feebly kicked my feet like a fallen child, trying to keep my voice down for fear of upsetting a neighbor. I’m not sure how long it took me to untangle myself from the sheet, but it was too long.

 

I panicked. I can admit it. I was alone when I shouldn’t have been. It was still dark. I was scared.

The bathroom was closest; I checked it first, but she wasn’t there. There was only one other room in my apartment, and it didn’t take long to find that Sayori wasn’t there, either. I could feel my heart-rate increasing, and suddenly I was sick to my stomach. I stumbled back into the bedroom and groped around the table next to my bed until I found my phone. I called Sayori’s, and a suddenly angry buzzing startled me from behind the table, where her phone had fallen behind.

 

I panicked. I can admit it. I was alone when I shouldn’t have been. It was still dark. I was fucking scared.

When I staggered back into the main room, I noticed something I hadn’t before. The blinds that hung in front of the sliding glass door leading to my apartment’s balcony had a shadow cast on them. I stood, transfixed, watching it sway a little, but otherwise remain still. For a few seconds, my imagination was peppering me with a machine-gun-film-reel of terrible things I never wanted to see, all of them ways my girlfriend could have taken her life.

And then it felt like everything stopped- the dread in my stomach, the frantic beating of my heart, the pounding-thump it created in my ears and throat. I just felt… cold.

I had to look. I had to see, had to know. If this was just a story, I’d be telling myself that Sayori was fine, that she’d just stepped out for some air. But I couldn’t think, head full of frosty fog and walking on legs made of frozen gelatin capped by feet made of bedrock. Each step felt more difficult to make, and by the time I reached the door, what had started as a mild tremble in my hands had become full-body shakes.

I stopped with my hand on the handle. The details aren’t the same, but this was so much like the nightmare that had been plaguing me for weeks that I suddenly almost didn’t want to know what was casting that shadow. But I  _ had _ to know, and I gently pulled the door to one side to find…

Sayori leaning against the balcony railing, looking a little tired but otherwise okay.

 

I panicked. I can admit it. She was alone, and that made me worry.

There’s something missing there, and it’s an obvious blank to fill in, I just don’t remember it. I blacked out, and woke up with Sayori’s worried face inches from mine. She was shaking me, calling my name. I was okay, and I told her as much, but… I wasn’t, really.

The new medicine doesn’t seem to be working. Therapy is helping, but this isn’t the first thing to happen since Sayori started mostly living with me close to two months ago. I’ve found her sitting on the steps to our floor several times, coming home from work or school. Once, I spent half a day trying to find her, only to find out that she’d gone back to her place and fallen asleep in the closet, because for some reason she couldn’t hear the voices there that day.

When I woke up, after the fainting bout, the fear was gone. The cold was gone, too. Both replaced with a frustration that I can’t aim at anything. So I told Sayori I was okay, and asked if she was. She hesitated. Maybe she just didn’t want to admit it this time, embarrassed. Maybe she knew I’d know if she was lying.

“I am now, MC.”

“But you weren’t,” is what I wanted to say. But, instead, I said, “okay. Just wake me up next time, okay?”

“You always say that.” And she smiled that sad smile that both melts and freezes my heart and puts a kind of pain I can’t describe somewhere deep down inside me in a place that’s not meant to suffer that kind of sensation. “But I’d hate to bother you…”

“You live with me!” My inner voice was shouting. But it comes out as- “Sayori, you- you know that’s not…”

“I do.” She leaned against me, pulling my arms around her. “But it’s hard to drag you into this. You already do so much…”

“If you still need something, it’s not enough. Just… please. Don’t keep doing this, it scares me every time I can’t find you. Just ask. Say something. Call me. Whatever you have to do, I’ll drop whatever I’m doing to be with you.”

“Okay, MC.” Her smile seems a little more genuine, but the sadness is still behind it. “Love you, dummy.”

“Love you too, dummy. We should stay at your place for a little while… barely big enough for the two of us here.”

“O-oh… no, I don’t think that’s a good idea, MC. It’s kind of a mess…”

“I can help clean, like when we were kids.”

“N-no, I’ll do it. Just… give me a couple days.” She pushes herself out of my arms and squeezes between me and the door. “I get everything cleaned up, and then you can come over.”

“Wait-” But she’s already in the bedroom. I can hear her shoving stuff into her bag. “Sayori, you don’t have to leave right now, the sun’s not even up yet…”

“No, you’re right, it’s not fair for me to hang out here all the time. Maybe if I work at it hard enough, you can come over tonight? I’ll try to make dinner for us, too…”

“Hey, come on, don’t be like that…”

“Like what?”

“Like… that…” I realize that she probably doesn’t want to be called out on feeling useless. I don’t think it would help. “You know, pouty.”

“I’m not being pouty,” she says as she pulls a zipper closed with enough force to bend it.

“ _ Stop _ . I didn’t say that because-”

“You think I’m just mooching off you, or whatever, right?”

“We’re dating! It’s fine-”

“So, I’ll go home and clean up my mess.” She pushes past me again, into the main room. “Okay, MC-kun? I’ll call you tonight.” The door unlocks behind her, but she never takes her eyes off mine, even as she opens it and steps into the hallway. “Okay?”

“I- yeah, okay, Sayori. I’ll be here if you need me.”

“See you soon.”

The door closes again, and I can’t make myself go after her. I don’t know what the hell just happened… I can’t remember the last time we argued about something, let alone the last time Sayori won an argument.

_ Fuck _ .

 

[ _ I guess I never should have loved you, but I do forever ‘cause you loved me... _ ](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=EkdSUQbONbk)


	5. (5) The Last Day I Was Happy

Sayori and I had a fight yesterday… the first since we started dating. We’ve had arguments before, sure, but arguments always have to end badly. They’re just a difference in opinion; opinions can be changed. We’ve always been able to talk out our differences, which is- that’s why we work so well. Sayori might be sick, but she’s not  _ unreasonable _ .

I didn’t want to write about this yesterday, because… because… I’m not really sure, now that I think about it. I guess in the heat of the moment, I was afraid she might somehow be able to find this and read it, or, god forbid, some of the other entries. I know she wouldn’t handle it well… the last thing I want is for Sayori to think I’ve been dating her for years because I feel obligated to, or something. After yesterday, it kind of already feels like she might.

I don’t know what the hell is happening anymore.

 

Quick note, I guess for future me reading back on this- it’s been three days since Sayori left my apartment. I didn’t talk to her the rest of that day. With the way she got all aggressive with me out of nowhere, I was a little afraid to push my luck… so I didn’t  _ try _ to talk to her for the rest of the day, should probably be the way I word that. I sent her a goodnight text before I went to bed, but she never responded to it.

I think that’s part of the reason we got into the fight. We ended up not talking the next day, either, and on the third, she called me out of nowhere a little after noon, wound-up and upset, because Monika had come by to check on her. It turns out that she hadn’t heard anything from Sayori in more than a week, and given her past… I understood it, even before I talked to Monika. Sayori was mad because she thought I sent our mutual friend to act as a peace-broker, because (as I would find out later, once I talked to Monika) she interpreted what I said the last time we saw each other as a fight.

I lost, if it matters. I don’t think it does… no one was going to win from the get-go. I understood where Sayori was coming from, weirdly enough, but there was no convincing her that if I  _ had _ asked Monika to check on her, why wouldn’t our friend have said something about it? The conversation devolved into a lot of high-pitched yelling, and then Sayori did something she never has before- she brought up my last relationship. It wasn’t a direct attack on me, I don’t think… more that she dropped to a near-whisper as she apologized for being sick, and that I could still be happy if she wasn’t. Then she hung up on me and either blocked my number, or turned her phone off altogether. I spent the next half hour trying to call her, and every time, it went straight to voicemail without a single ring.

 

I spent another thirty minutes wondering if that last remark was on purpose. When things first started to get out of control, when we were in high school, I had  _ just _ started dating a mutual friend, someone I had met through the Literature Club, because of Sayori. I mean  _ just _ started- Natsuki and I had been together for three days when Sayori tried to hang herself. All our friends in the club were so incredibly supportive, but without Natsuki, I don’t know if I could have handled it as well as I did, or at all. Before that -well, after it too, but- Sayori was my best friend, the one person who knew everything about me, the one person who knew my secrets, things that weren’t secrets to her like they were to everyone else. She had been in and out, gone before, with the psychiatric stays, the trip to Europe, but we never lost contact… sometimes it was just… slow.

The two weeks when Sayori was in the hospital, and the week after when she refused to talk to me, were (and still are) the longest of my life. I was there almost every day, and with the exception of the day she opened up to me about the voices, it was like she was miles away. I spent at least an hour there every day I visited, more than once staying until visiting hours were closed. Then, every night, Natsuki would sit up on the phone with me and listen while I vented. She never acted like she was tired of hearing the same complaints over and over again, she never said anything judgemental when I accidentally let something slip that should have stayed between Sayori, and none of those things ever made it to anyone else’s ears. She recommended the bakery I bought the cupcakes that day, and, a week later, helped me bake a cake of our own to take to Sayori. She was… the best friend I could have asked for, then, honestly. She pulled the same weight Sayori always had, when Sayori couldn’t.

 

We dated for close to two years after that. It seems like kind of an understatement, throwing that out there without really even mentioning the relationship before now. I really cared about Natsuki, and… I hope she cared about me. I think she did, but the break-up wasn’t… 

It was the third day in a row that Sayori called me crying in the early hours of the morning. The prior two, I had just gotten out of bed, stayed up on the phone with her until she fell asleep. I was a zombie those two days, and it didn’t go unnoticed. Still, Natsuki understood, or, she acted like she did. The third day, though, Sayori said something that  _ scared _ me… I can’t remember what exactly now, but I think it was either a hint that she had already hurt herself, or that she kept hearing someone telling her to, the first time she mentioned the voices around me without addressing them as something she knew wasn’t real. I ended up sleeping on the floor beside her bed- something about sleeping in the bed with her didn’t feel right. It wasn’t cheating, but it just wasn’t… right.

Natsuki and I were supposed to get breakfast that morning. She had an interview afterwards at that same bakery she had sent me to that day almost two years before. I overslept, and woke up to a text saying she would slip the key to my apartment under the door after she was done, could I do the same, or mail hers to her?

It was the last time I heard from her; I mailed the key back to her to avoid the possibility of accidentally catching her coming or going. I understood why it had to happen… sleeping through our breakfast date was just the last in a string of missed and canceled meet-ups. I imagine it got old, along with the venting, the regular “oh, Sayori would love this, I should get it for her,” the emergency calls, the bail-outs…

I didn’t meant to just  _ drop _ her afterwards, though. It wouldn’t be the first time I lost a friend because of Sayori, but Natsuki was different. I just wanted some time alone, to get over it. I still wanted to be friends… after two years, the two of us were as close as I was to Sayori. A few days turned into two weeks turned into three months turned into five, six, seven. By then, I had started dating Sayori, and it felt… wrong.

 

Her name is right under Monika’s in my phone, still. If I hadn’t seen it, I might not have spent so long staring at the wall wondering if Sayori had been trying to hurt me or not.

Not that calling Monika did a whole hell of a lot to ease my worries.

The story she told me was… disheartening, that’s a good word for it. Apparently, Sayori had ignored her knocking on the apartment door -for a few good minutes- and it was only after Monika called her several times that she came to greet her. Among other things, Monika told me that the apartment seemed to be completely dark, despite it being early afternoon when she stopped by, and Sayori looked like she had spent the last few days crying. She didn’t  _ act _ much different than usual, spacey, happy-sad, and she actually  _ thanked _ Monika for coming to check on her, saying that the last couple days had been rough. When Monika asked why, Sayori told her that we’d had a fight, and that no one had really had time to talk about it.

The thing is… it had been two days since that “fight,” and Monika hadn’t heard anything about it until that moment. Didn’t take much stretching for the two of us to come to the conclusion that something wasn’t right. I ended the conversation abruptly after that, though both of us had a mission- texting mutual friends, asking around, and surprise, no one else had been told about the fight, either.

One thing of interest, all but confirming something being off with Sayori- Yuri had a text conversation with her both the day of our “first” fight, as well as yesterday before Monika went by. No mention of us fighting. Nothing weird about Sayori’s responses.

 

I don’t know what to do… I don’t know what I  _ can _ do. I can’t send anyone to check on her now, after that. I’m sure if I try to go talk to her myself, she won’t acknowledge me. I’ve tried to call her throughout the day today, but it’s gone to voicemail every time, just like yesterday. And of course, with how phones work now, I can’t get a receipt that she’s seen my texts. She hasn’t respond to any of them, if she has.

The only thing I can do is wait, I guess. Keep trying and hope she’ll talk to me, or give it a couple days and try again. Maybe in a few days, she’ll have cooled down enough to talk to someone else about it, and maybe I can get someone to  _ actually _ mediate… even if she stays mad at me -or gets madder, because I tried to get someone else involved- I could

god, i just want to know she’s okay

i dont konw what to


	6. (6) Someday Came Suddenly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> **Self-harm warning- not actively shown, not super graphic.**

It’s been six days since the last time I talked to Sayori, nine since the last time we talked… civilly. I shouldn’t have let it go this long. I wish I had come by sooner, but…

I don’t know what stopped me.

Monika has a spare key to Sayori’s apartment. Of course she does. She told me the day after she went by the apartment. I feel like I should have felt slighted, but I’m just so damn  _ tired _ … too tired for that. I just want to know if Sayori’s okay. She can stay mad if she wants, as long as she hasn’t…

Monika offered to bring me the key that same day she told me she had it, but I didn’t take her up on it. It felt like such an invasion of Sayori’s privacy, for me to just show up and barge in on her without the ability to even give her a warning. I thought about just asking Monika to do it, since she already had the key, but that felt… worse. Sayori was upset because she thought I didn’t trust her, that I sent someone to make sure she was okay. That’s what stopped me, I think. I knew anyone just showing up would likely make things worse, and I didn’t-

We met up yesterday so I could get the key. Monika offered to go with me, but I thought I should just go alone… at least, if I couldn’t salvage everything and  _ did _ make things worse, Monika could try to cheer Sayori up later. Should have let her come with me. I lost my nerve before I even reached Sayori’s floor. I ended up spending close to an hour pacing up and down the stairs before writing “I’m sorry. Please call me. MC.” on a corner of a page torn from a textbook I had in my bag and slipping it under her door. 

She didn’t call me.

 

I unlocked the door three minutes ago, according to the phone in my other hand. I’ve been standing outside Sayori’s apartment with my hand on the unlocked doorknob for three minutes. At the threshold, and I’m already losing my nerve…

I take a deep breath, and gently open the door.

I’m immediately hit with a wave of…  _ stench _ . At first, it’s just awful, cold, stale air that’s been sitting for days, turning my stomach and tempting me towards being sick. Monika didn’t mention  _ this _ , but one of the things she had told me was true- Sayori must have put up new curtains recently, because the entirety of her living room is almost pitch-black past the square coming from the hall light behind me. Holding my breath, I push the door the rest of the way open- no, I push it as far back as it’ll go, something’s keeping it from going all the way to the wall. I reach for the lights, fumble, and manage to hit one.

A single light, directly above me, illuminates what I can only describe as a nest. Clothes, torn paper -pages from books, newspapers, blank printer paper, leaflets, takeout menus- and junk food wrappers litter the floor. I’ve certainly seen worse online -that I’m able to see spots of open carpet in a few places is a good sign, in a sad sort of way- but this isn’t… this is something I never would have expected. Sayori’s always been messy, but this is a new level.

As I flip on the rest of the lights in the main room, I’m surprised that there’s nothing worse than what I’ve already seen. No bugs or rats, no bits of half-eaten food… nothing to cause this godawful reek. The crunching of destroyed manga and empty sweets wrappers beneath my feet is disconcerting, and every few steps I find one of my feet sliding as slick plastic loses traction against the carpet buried beneath it. But I manage -slowly, carefully- to pick my way to Sayori’s bedroom door. I knock gently on it, once, twice. “Sayori? It’s me… MC.”

But she doesn’t say anything. “Sayori?” I knock again, a little harder.

Nothing. I’ve already come this far… I grab the doorknob and turn it, and, surprisingly, it’s unlocked. “Sayor-”

I can identify the smell, now. Bile and cheap wine. It’s much,  _ much _ worse in here. It hits me harder than before, turns my stomach even worse than when I found Sayori hanging that day, years ago. I take a step back as I push the door a little further open, retching, mostly dry, nothing I can’t handle for now. “Sayori? Are you-”

“Just go away, MC. I told you my place was messy…” Her voice breaks every third syllable, is incredibly hoarse in between. She sniffs several times, then blows her nose. “I just… didn’t see a point in cleaning it. I didn’t think you would want to come over, anyways.”

“Didn’t think- no, I thought you were mad at me, why would-” I put one hand on the doorknob to steady myself as I step slightly into her bedroom; I’m worried if I don’t, the smell might knock me unconscious, or at least onto my ass.

I reach for the lights, but I guess Sayori’s been in the dark long enough to be able to see, and before I’ve even found the plate, say says “don’t turn on the lights” in a tone that makes my skin crawl far more than the temperature of her apartment has.

“Wh-  _ why? _ ”

“Just don’t. Please.”

“Sayori, what have you been doing since the last time I saw you?” I feel like I know part of that answer already, if the piles of debris I had to wade through to get to her room is any indication.

“Being sad, mostly. Wishing you would call.”

What. “Have you been taking your medicine?” There’s something else in the air, something I couldn’t smell from the doorway or the living room. It’s faint, but familiar.

“I ran out.”

_ What. _ “When?”

“… when was I at your apartment last?”

 

Iron. The smell is iron, old, wet copper.

 

I hit the lights without thinking. My eyes haven’t adjusted to the dark so much yet, and while the sudden brightness stings, I’m not blinded by it. Not like Sayori, who throws an arm across her face to shield herself from it- an arm with multiple long, scabby trails across it.

Her room is almost as big as my entire apartment, but I’m beside the bed in four steps, before either of us realize it. She looks at me from behind her arm, eyes red and puffy, half-closed, like a child caught cheating on a maths test. She doesn’t fight when I pull her arm away, towards me so I can get a better look. As I turn it, I see number of cuts on her other arm, peeking out from the rolled-up sleeve of an unbuttoned button-down shirt- one of  _ my _ shirts.

Then I notice the multitude on her chest, and her stomach, some still wet with almost-coagulated blood. I feel my eyes narrow, the only expression I allow myself, and only then to try and fight back the tears building up behind them. “Sayori,  _ what did you do? _ ”

“Th-they said you would come back if I…”

The world around me is starting to go black. I blink and the darkness recedes, but only slightly. My stomach lurches, I close my eyes completely and let go of Sayori’s arm as I do my best to keep my lunch down. The feeling passes after a few seconds, and when I open my eyes again, Sayori’s started to cry. “I-I’m sorry, MC… I th-thought you were m-mad at me…”

“No.” It takes a lot out of my to lower myself to one knee beside the bed; my legs feel like they have no bones, and the arm I put on Sayori’s nightstand trembles when I put my weight on it. “I’m not mad.” Splotches of red and dark-dried brown dot the sheets; I put my other hand on them without looking and feel something wet and cold under my palm.

I don’t know what to do… none of the wounds look serious, but this isn’t something I can just write off, or sweep under the rug. There are things that I now consider normal that would put most people off holding a conversation with Sayori, let alone become as close as we are. It can’t be helped, but this…

“MC, y-you’re shaking…”

“I’m just worried about you.” I try to smile, weak and forced, but even I’m not convinced. “C’mon-” I slide one arm behind Sayori’s neck and get my other hand beneath her back, gently pushing. “Let’s get you up and cleaned up.” We get nowhere, though, and I shift so my toes are under me, giving me a little more leverage. “Sayori, come on, don’t do this.”

But she’s still limp in my arms for a few seconds longer before she puts her left arm around my shoulders and looks away from me. I feel the heat from her cheeks more than I see her flush, and she shudders as she leans against me. “I kn-know I shouldn’t listen to them, but I th-thought you wouldn’t c-come back…”

I get to my feet as best I can, only to nudge her slightly one way and sit on the edge of the bed beside her. “I know how it is, Sayori. But I’ll always come back.”

This close to her, the iron-smell is almost overpowering. It reminds me of finding a cat that had been hit by a car… we were kids, still. Twelve, thirteen, maybe. Sayori had missed school again, and I was going to take her the work she missed before going home. The cat couldn’t have been dead more than an hour, having dragged itself out of the street and onto the sidewalk up against Sayori’s front fence. I didn’t know what to do about it, but I knew if Sayori saw it, she’d be upset about it for days, so I did the only thing I could think of- I took everything out of my backpack, set my things a little ways down the sidewalk, and put my bag over the cat. I left a note so her parents knew about it, and as far as I know, she never found out.

I try to ignore the churning of my stomach as I pull Sayori against me. The sweet smell of strawberries and flowers that usually clings to her is gone, replaced by blood and sick and sour grapes. It burns my nose, but I mitigate it as best I can by breathing through my mouth. “I made that promise before…” We were dating. Before I knew about all of this. “A lot of things. I’d still never break it.”

She mumbles something, and when I ask her to repeat it, all I get is a whimper before she buries her face in my neck and shoulder. We sit like that for a while, until I remember I left the front door wide open and excuse myself to go close it. When I return, Sayori is wiping her eyes and nose with the sleeve of her -my- shirt. She tries to smile, but it looks the way mine felt- pained and fake. “I’m s-sorry I made you w-worry…”

“No, no…” I move to hug her again, standing this time. Sitting down seems like a trap, like we’ll be stuck there until she cries herself to sleep… or worse. She doesn’t seem to mind, though, and nuzzles against my chest. “Stop that. You didn’t- you couldn’t help it. This is why…” I hesitate, because I know there’s a fifty-fifty chance what I’m about to say is going to be the wrong thing. “That’s why Monika came to check on you. I didn’t send her, Sayori. She was worried about you, too. Yuri’s worried about you. Your other friends are, too. You have to try and get better, but you don’t have to do it alone.” I start to rub the side of her arm out of habit, but stop when she flinches. “Can you clean yourself up, or do you want me to help?”

“I c-can-” Sayori takes a deep breath and looks up at me. Even after days of crying, she has the most beautiful eyes of anyone I’ve ever met. “I’ll be okay on my own.”

“Okay. I’ll start cleaning up while you’re in there.”

“N-no, this my mess, I should-”

“You’re going to hurt yourself worse if you do. I don’t want- I can’t let you do that. Go clean up, I’ll take care of this. As much as I can between now and then, at least.”

“I d-don’t deserve you, MC-kun…”

I  _ really _ don’t know what to say to that, so I do the first thing that comes to mind, the first instinct that surfaces- I crane my neck down and kiss her.

Her lips taste like stomach acid and cheap, berry-flavored vodka. Behind her back, I dig the nails of two of my fingers into my palm, as many as I’m willing to chance and hope she doesn’t notice; the longer the kiss goes on, the deeper they go. “You deserve happiness like everyone else. Don’t-”

She pulls me back into the kiss, and for a moment, I almost think she knows how uncomfortable it is and did it on purpose. But it only lasts for a few seconds, this time, and when she pulls back, she pushes me away so she can stand up. “I don’t know wh-what I’d do without you… is that better?”

“Maybe.” I find myself smiling again. It’s small, but genuine. “I don’t want to ruin the moment, but you know we’re going to have to do something about… this… tomorrow.”

Sayori deflates a little at this, shoulders sagging, her gaze falling to the floor. “Y-yeah… I’ll go back on the zombie medicine for a c-couple weeks… that worked last time. As long as it’s j-just temporary…”

I busy myself with a pile of clothes shoved into the corner opposite the bed. Within seconds, I realize it’s not as monumental a task as I first thought- there’s something under the pile making it look larger, something solid. “That’s probably what your therapist will suggest. It won’t be forever, but you  _ have _ to take the rest of your medicine when you get off it, okay?” I can see the edge of something black and shiny and metal under the pile; pulling a sweater away reveals it to be Sayori’s bathroom trashcan.

I pull a pair of unusually stiff jeans off the top of the bin and realize two things- why the jeans are so stiff, and where the smell permeating the apartment has been coming from. I look up just in time to see Sayori look away in embarrassment again. Taking a deep breath through my mouth, I fold the jeans so nothing foul is visible and set them to the side, then return to pulling the rest of the dirty clothes into my arms. “Go on, really. I’ll clean up. I know the last week has been hard on you.”

“I love you.” I can barely tell what she said, and her voice breaks before she gets all of “you” out. Before I even have a chance to say it back, she scurries into the bathroom and closes the door, so I continue to picking up what seems like months of dirty clothes and begin to pile them on the bed. When I return to the corner, I sneak a peek into Sayori’s closest… nothing but empty hangers.

Fuck. This just keeps getting worse.

The door opens partway, and I turn to see Sayori looking out from behind it, the shower running in the background. “Yes?”

“Y-you won’t leave?”

“Wh- no, why… no, of course not. I might be in the other room when you get out, but no, I’m not going to leave.” She watches me from her hiding place, like she’s looking for a tell. “I love you, too.”

The smile I get before she closes the door again would give me butterflies if my stomach wasn’t already full of a tangled mass of angry snakes. I sigh as I pick up the now forever-soiled trashcan and carry it out of the room, to the entryway. 

Like the road to hell, the road to “okay” is paved with good intentions. I just hope I can manage enough “good works” to get us back on it.


	7. (7) Adrift

The last few weeks have been the most stressful of my life. This weekend was the worst of it, I hope.

I spent Thursday night and all of the weekend with Sayori, after I found her injured, alone, lost in a fog of delusions. I didn’t know what else to do… staying as close to her as I could was the only thing I could think of, the only thing I could think to try to buy myself time to come up with a better plan.

The first thing I thought of was trying to get her squeezed in with her therapist… the major problem with that, though, was that I didn’t think of it until Friday night. Seeing someone else at the practice was always a possibility- it was a pretty big place, five psychiatrists, rotational weekend duty so that there’s someone there to receive emergency patients during their slightly reduced Saturday/Sunday hours of business. This plan falls apart in an instant, however, when I call to ask who the attending doctor is this weekend. I can never remember the guy’s name, but this week, it’s the one who suggested Sayori be put on the medicine that turns her brain off as a  _ permanent _ solution. Just telling her that he’s the only one there this weekend is almost enough to start her crying again.

After a fight and more than a few arguments scattered across Saturday and Sunday, Sayori made the decision to commit herself to a psychiatric hospital about an hour from home, the adult branch of one of the handful she was sent to as a child. Neither of us sleep well that last night, and Sayori nods on and off on the train ride there, her head on my shoulder.

It reminds me of better days.

 

It’s not an easy thing to do, although I can’t say I expected it to be. Sayori puts on a brave face- until the doors open to take her back, that is, and I’m forced to say goodbye, at which point she devolves into a clinging, sobbing wreck. Thankfully the staff is patient, though I have a feeling that’s because this was voluntary; it takes me close to half an hour to calm her down, a thousand half-hearted assurances and twice as many promises. No matter how many times I bring it up, I can’t get it to sink in that she can leave at any time- all she has to do is tell someone she’s ready to leave. From there, all she has to do is call, and I’ll drop whatever I’m doing to come take her home.

She looks back several times as she’s led down the hall, after the doors close, and each time, it gets a little harder to keep waving, to keep the small, plastic smile glued to my face. I keep it together until I’m outside the hospital’s front doors, but just barely. It’s not so bad -I’ve learned to delay my emotional responses, and to lessen them, so that I’m the strong one, at least when Sayori might be watching- but it’s still… it sucks,  _ everything _ sucks. I’m powerless to help my best friend, and it’s not like this is the first time. I’ve been finding myself that way for years.

I keep my head clear on the walk to the train station, but once I find my way to my seat and the train is moving, it’s a lot harder to keep certain thoughts from settling in. A part of me has always wondered what things would be like without her around, branching out from any number of places- incidents, arguments, her being “gone” when we were younger. As I stare out the train’s window, my thoughts center around this, and a dozen other almost-equally unpleasant things. Regrets, mostly, opportunities lost or turned down for Sayori, or because of her. Friends we both lost. Natsuki, and Sayori bringing her up, more specifically, at first.

I can’t ever remember feeling lower than this, wondering  _ why _ I’ve stuck with Sayori as long as I have, like I get nothing out of our friendship -out of our  _ relation _ ship, now- like she’s a fucking burden and not my friend, not the person I care most about in this world. And I  _ hate _ it. I hate myself, because I don’t agree with it, but I can’t make it stop. I don’t want to think these thoughts, I don’t want to  _ ever _ look at her that way. It’s… guilt, other things, I know; relationships neglected, things I should have done but didn’t or shouldn’t have done but did. Mental build-up, that’s all it is, things I shouldn’t hold onto like this, but it feels alien, something put in my head by something outside my control, intrusive thoughts like the impulse to jump when presented with something tall. It’s unhealthy, and I know that, too, but… this is the way things have to be, for right now.

Intertwined with that question, back and forth, back and forth, is Natsuki. Out of all the stupid things I’ve done, all the poor choices I’ve made… fuck, I did her wrong. Us breaking up, and then me just… ghosting her, like that… she stopped hanging around pretty much anyone Sayori and I did. Maybe it didn’t have anything to do with us, with me, but it’s something that’s haunted me for years now. Was it that bad, that she didn’t want to ever be reminded of me again? Or was it just… awkwardness, that one of us might say something in passing to a friend and start something?

She was always there for me, until I wasn’t for her anymore. Unless Sayori has someone else to keep her secrets besides me, Natsuki knew… everything. When she dumped me, I was crushed- I lost more than a girlfriend, I lost one of the best friends I’ve ever had, and the only person I felt confident talking about Sayori’s problems with without filter. In a weird reversal of roles, Sayori was there for me almost as soon as it happened, but I still haven’t met anyone I could talk to like her- besides Sayori, which… doesn’t help when I need to talk  _ about _ her.

 

As I unlock the door to Sayori’s apartment, I’m so tempted to call Natsuki; I could never bring myself to delete her number from my phone, even years later. I quiet the thought, though, and the rest of the menagerie, by throwing my phone into the depths of Sayori’s couch- there’s work to do… a lot of work to do.

I busy myself with the horrendous mess still enveloping most of the apartment. The time I spent with Sayori this weekend was mostly in her bed, watching-but-not-really-seeing the TV, or tending to her wounds to be sure none of them got infected, or just holding her while we tried to figure out what to do.  It’s a colossal task, trying to clean all of this by myself, and I wish I didn’t have to do it alone. I  _ could _ ask for help, I guess… I’d be willing to bet both Monika and Yuri would come help without question, but… for right now, I think this whole… incident… needs to stay between Sayori and me. I’m planning on telling Monika, at least, about the commitment tomorrow,  _ that _ shouldn’t be a secret, but… no one else needs to know just how bad things got. Despite being a witness too it, I don’t feel comfortable sharing, even with our closest friends.

Just the living room alone takes me the rest of the day sorting refuse from clothes, dragging bags down the stairs outside and to the dumpster. The apartment complex, thankfully, has a laundry room -unlike mine- and once I’ve sufficiently cleared the main room, I take the first of many loads and toss it into one of the washing machines. I set a timer on my phone after starting it, knowing sleep may very well be the next thing on my to-do list.

The kitchen is still a mess of filth, dirty dishes and wrappers and rot, but the clock on the oven reads five-twenty-seven. I’ve been back here for just shy of five hours, and I haven’t even gone into Sayori’s bedroom.  _ Fuck _ . I collapse onto the couch, an arm over my eyes, and shift, toss and turn, roll from one side to the other. Eventually I fall asleep, for a while.

I wake up before the alarm, my mind still somewhere else, to a single text.

 

_ From- Monika _

_ 18:03: Good evening, MC. Haven’t heard from you or Sayori in a couple days, since I gave you the spare key. Everything okay? -M _

 

I read the message over and over again, five, ten, twenty times, until the screen on my phone times out.  _ No, it’s not, _ is what I want to send; I type it out, delete it, repeat this several times until the alarm I set goes off and I head back downstairs to throw Sayori’s clothes in a dryer. My phone buzzes in my back pocket as I’m coming back up the stairs, but I ignore it until I’m back in the apartment.

 

_ From- Yuri _

_ 18:41: Hi, MC-kun. Hope everything is going well. Would you and Sayori like to meet me for lunch tomorrow? There’s a new cafe next to the old bookstore we all used to go to back in high school… I thought it might cheer her up. Only if you’re both up to it though! Let me know! _

 

It’s not much, but after the last few days… I crack. I don’t even make it back to the couch, sinking against the back of the apartment’s front door, my head in my hands. Everything is awful, and I don’t know how to fix it. Sayori’s stay in the hospital will (probably) make things better, but for how long? Whatever they can do for her is only temporary, and if she goes off her medicine again…

My hands are shaking to the point of having trouble holding the phone as I respond back to Yuri first.

 

_ To- Yuri _

_ 19:07: It’s just me right now, Yuri. I’ll explain tomorrow, if you still want to go. _

 

_ From- Yuri _

_ 19:08: Oh… is everything okay? _

 

_ To- Yuri _

_ 19:08: No. _

_ 19:09: It’s a lot of things. _

 

_ From- Yuri _

_ 19:09: Do you want to talk about it? You know I’ll always listen, MC… _

 

The dropping of the honorific doesn’t go unnoticed. I hope she isn’t too worried about us, yet… it’s only going to get worse from here.

 

_ To- Yuri _

_ 19:11: No. _

_ 19:13: It’s not you. Cleaning Sayori’s apartment. You know how she gets sometimes. Really… tomorrow? _

 

_ From- Yuri _

_ 19:18: Sure. 13:30? Do you need the address? _

 

_ To- Yuri. _

_ 19:21: That sounds good, and no, just the name. I think I know where you’re talking about. Do you mind if I ask Monika to come, too? _

 

_ From- Yuri _

_ 19:22: It’s called Manna from Heaven… kind of silly, I know. And yes, that would be great! I would have invited her, but I didn’t want it to be too many people… I know Sayori gets uncomfortable in crowds sometimes, even if it’s just us. _

 

_ To- Yuri _

_ 19:25: Alright, I think I can find it. I’ll ask her, and see you then. I really appreciate this. _

 

_ To- Monika _

_ 19:28: Sorry I took so long to respond, it’s… been a really hard weekend, M. Week. Few weeks. Yuri invited us to lunch tomorrow at some cafe called Manna from Heaven… said it’s near the old bookstore near the school, around 13:30. Sayori’s… not gonna be able to go, but it would be nice if you could go. I need to tell you both about… some stuff, and it’s easier in person, I think. Easier for me, I mean. Easier to keep it together, I mean. _

 

The shakes have resided, for now, and I drag myself across the living room and to Sayori’s bedroom. With the window open all day -and most of the time the last few days- the smell has gone, although the stink of blood still hangs in small pockets, thick and iron-y. I don’t have the energy for this, to finish what I started Thursday night. The clothes are at least in a pile, and I washed the sick out of the trashcan, but… this is just too much for me to handle in a single day. I sit on the edge of the bed, but only for a few minutes, as the timer goes off on my phone once again and make one last trek to the laundry room.

I dump the first load of Sayori’s clothes on the couch and fill the hamper with the second, leaving it near the front door, and trudge back into her bedroom, where I collapse onto a bed that’s too big for just me.

 

_ From- Monika _

_ 19:37: No, no, it’s fine, MC. Doesn’t sound like you’re great, but I’m glad you’re okay enough to respond. I’d love to go to lunch with you and Yuri tomorrow! I might be a little bit late though, one of my classes gets out at 12:45 and I don’t know if I can get across town that quick. I’ll try, though! _

_ 19:39: I’m sure the answer is no, with what you just said, but do you want to talk about whatever’s happened? After what you told me before, I’m worried about you. About both of you. Is Sayori okay? Are you okay? _

 

_ From- Yuri _

_ 19:40: Of course, MC-kun. See you tomorrow. _

 

_ To- Monika _

_ 19:47: No, no, and no. We’ll talk tomorrow, I promise. Today’s been especially long. _

_ 19:48: Don’t mention I told you separately to Yuri, but Sayori committed herself today. It’s just temporary, but it’s… it was hard, M. Really hard. I feel like I lost something really important, like a game or a fight, not a thing. I’ll see you both tomorrow, though… gonna go to bed early. Night. _

 

That isn’t a lie. I  _ do _ go to bed early, and try to fall asleep, but it doesn’t come as easily as it did on the couch a few hours ago. I miss Sayori already. I wonder what her day was like, if she’s still awake. If she cried herself to sleep again, and I wasn’t there to hold her.

This is the hardest right decision I’ve ever had to make.


	8. (8) Clear Hearts, Grey Flowers

Manna from Heaven, 13:30.

Not what I expected. All sorts of nerd shit on the walls- obscure anime posters, framed, flattened out boxes from old school text adventure games on PC systems no one’s used in decades, trading cards from series I’ve never heard of… I’m a little surprised Yuri, of all people, would be the one to invite me here. Guess she could have picked up a new hobby since high school, though. I shouldn’t be so quick to judge.

I’m the first to arrive, since I only have a 9:30 class today. I’m only five minutes early when I get here, but I’m still a little surprised. Then I remember that I’m usually on time to things if I’m on my own… it’s Sayori who makes us late all the time. The thought immediately stings, and what little appetite I had is gone before Yuri shows up, apologizing profusely for being late.

I glance at my phone. 13:33. “Yuri, it’s only a couple minutes. You’re fine.”

“E-eh… is it?” She sheepishly pulls her own phone out of her bag, turns the screen on, and sinks into the chair across from me, briefly burying her face in her arms. “S-sorry…” It’s only when she looks back up at me that I notice her cheeks are red and she’s breathing heavily. “I went home to take a n-nap after my last class and woke up l-later than I meant to… I r-ran most of the way here…”

“You could have just sent me a text saying you were running late, you know.”

“I…” Yuri faceplants for a second time, coming back up yawning. “Probably s-should have. I panicked.” She shrugs and tries to force a smile. “Is Monika coming?”

“Yeah, she should be here soon. Said her last class was at twelve-forty-five, and she’d be here as soon as she could. You can go order something while we wait if you want, I was waiting on at least one of you to show up before I did.” Half-truth. I  _ was _ waiting, before I killed my own appetite.

“Oh, s-sure… I’ll just order a cup of tea for now. Do you want me to get you anything?”

“No, I’m alright. Thanks.” Yuri heads up to the counter and places her order, returning a couple minutes later with an insulated cup. “Sorry it’s just me today. I’m sure Sayori would’ve come if she could have.”

“Oh, I’m still glad to see you too, MC-kun! I sent her the same text, but she never even responded… is she sick?”

“S-something like that.” It takes more effort than I thought it would to end that sentence there. Even though I already told Monika the most recent update, I’d still rather wait for her to get here, so I can explain everything once… not sure I can handle it a second time.

There must be a crack in my metaphorical mask; Yuri has a look on her face like she knows I’m holding back on her. “I know I asked yesterday, but is everything… are  _ you _ okay, MC? I haven’t heard a lot out of either of you lately, and with what you said last time you and I spoke…”

I slump a little in my seat, unwilling to push aside the veil just yet. “I am _ not _ , but thank you for asking.”

“Do you…?”

“When Monika gets here… I promise. It’s- it’s not going to be… it’s been a really tough couple weeks, Yuri. I’d hate to bum you out so soon, so… how have  _ you _ been? How’d you find this place? It doesn’t really seem like you, if that makes sense.”

Yuri smiles, her eyes fixed on the mug instead of me. I’m a little relieved, to be honest… she gets a little… intense… when she’s worried. “My boyfriend is really into Magic the Gathering, and this cafe hosts a monthly tournament upstairs every month. I don’t know a lot about the game, but they make pretty good food, and it’s not too expensive.”

I’m more surprised by- “Boyfriend?” I grin despite myself, unable to keep it away. “Good for you, Yuri. Is that something new? Can’t remember you mentioning him before…”

“No…” She sounds a little hurt. Fuck,  _ has  _ she said something about him before? “We’ve been dating for six months. I’m sure I told you about him, MC-kun… Teru?”

The name doesn’t sound even remotely familiar. “I-I’m sorry, Yuri… guess I’m as forgetful as Sayori lately. Must have rubbed off on me after all these years.”

She looks back up at me, her knuckles slightly white around the cup. “Are things that bad again? Did she run-” Yuri cuts herself off as something catches her eye. We both look to the side in time to see Monika skirt around a crowd passing by outside and enter the cafe. Yuri must have seen the giant bow tying our friends hair back- green, a new color for her, at least not one I’ve ever seen her wear. Matches her eyes.

“Hi, guys! Sorry I’m late!” Cool as ever, Monika lobs her bag over the table and into the empty chair to my right, landing it perfectly on the seat as she carefully lowers herself onto the chair to my left. “Did you already eat?”

“No, we were waiting on you. Right, MC-kun?”

“Yeah, yeah, right. You two go ahead, I’m not really hungry. I had a big breakfast.”

“Are you sure-”

“C’mon, Yuri, I’m starving.” Monika flashes me a quick look of concern before returning a smile to her lips, leading Yuri back to the counter. She glances back at me again while Yuri orders, and I have to look away. I know that look,  _ too _ well. It’s almost identical to the one she gave me when she told me I should- no, when she told me  _ to _ go check on Sayori, the day she tried to hang herself. Even knowing there’s nothing but the purest intent behind it, something about it makes my blood turn cold. Feels like she’s reading my mind.

The girls return in short order with sandwiches and fruit; Yuri slides a bowl of fixed fruit slices in front of me without a word. Still a little frosty from Monika’s glance, a pick up a piece of an orange and pop it into my mouth. We all eat in silence for a few minutes, until-

“What’s going on with Sayori, MC?” Monika fixes me with a stare that’s simultaneously better and worse than the dreaded worry-look. I can’t quite parse what it’s supposed to be- it’s not quite concern, but not really suspicion, either. It doesn’t turn my veins to ice… it makes my stomach turn, instead.

“She’s…” I told Monika about this last night, it shouldn’t be so hard to find the words. I’m almost tempted to pull my phone out, as if the message I sent her might help me phrase this correctly. “Sayori committed herself to the Kawasaki Regional Mental hospital yesterday morning.” I want to say more, but it feels like the air has been forced out of my lungs, like something is pushing from both sides.

“Oh my…” Monika looks away, hands holding her sandwich just off the plate. 

“Oh…” Yuri, on the other hand, looks directly at me. “What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”

“She-” I catch myself, quickly debating whether or not I should mention the final straw. I know Yuri’s had some trouble with self-harm in the past, and I’d hate to upset her, too. I’m running low on friends. “Ah… should- should I go over everything?” Monika nods, looking from me to Yuri, and Yuri looks like she’s waiting for me to continue, so I do. “She’s gotten a lot worse over the last few months. Her medicine stopped being effective for a while, and she spent two or three weeks mostly living with me because she would wake up with auditory hallucinations, and they were…” I struggle to find the right word, pushing the fruit around with a slice of apple. “I’d say ‘rough,’ but I don’t really fully know what she was hearing, to be honest. I don’t usually ask, since that just makes it worse. But she got her dosage upped after the first couple days, and things  _ got _ better… she was mostly sleeping over because it made her feel safe, I think after the voices themselves went away, she was still having nightmares. It’s… gotten a little foggy, to be honest.”

“That’s- take your time, MC.” Monika reaches over and takes a piece of melon out of the bowl in front of me. I push the entire thing towards her, but she pushes it back with the slightest shake of her head.

“I said something that set her off and she didn’t talk to me for a couple days, and then when I tried to talk to her, we got into a fight and it’s- it was just-” I sigh, running a slightly sticky hand through my hair. “The pharmacy fucked up the amount when they filled the higher dosage prescription, and she didn’t tell me or go get it fixed herself, so she ran out of pills and went off the deep end. That’s… I think that’s the easiest way to explain it.”

“She didn’t seem that bad off when I went to check on her…” The worry-look again. There’s a hint of something else in there, self-doubt maybe, that she might have missed something.

“She called me after you left and yelled at me for half an hour, Monika.”

“You didn’t tell me  _ that _ .”

“I didn’t want you to feel bad for being worried. Either of you. Sayori hasn’t been herself, and I’d hate for her to- I’m used to it, you know? I can handle the mood swings. I don’t want her to take it out on anyone else.”

“Did she  _ do _ something, MC-kun?” Yuri looks almost as uneasy as Monika. She’s barely touched her food… must have been listening so intently, she forget it was there. Wouldn’t be the first time.

“I’m not sure I should say. Well… I guess- yes, she did, I’m just thinking it might be too upsetting-”

“I was up all night worrying about  _ both _ of you, MC.” I take it back. Worried-Yuri might be intense, but forceful-Yuri is  _ scary _ . “Just tell us what’s wrong, okay? Knowing something is, but not what it is is  _ so _ much worse…”

“We didn’t talk for almost a week, and Monika gave me the spare key, so I went- I went to check on her.” Bile burns the back of my lungs. “Apartment was trashed, she’s got heavy blackout curtains now.” I bite into the piece of apple I’ve been playing with, hoping it might cool the fire on the back of my tongue, but it’s gone room temperature by now. Damn. “I found- I f-found… Sayori…”

My eyes are suddenly heavy; I blink a few times, but it does little to help, like I’ve been crying for hours and there’s nothing left. “She’d… she said the voices told her I wouldn’t come back unless she cut herself… like,  _ a lot… _ ” I shudder, and Monika reaches over to pat my hand. Looking down at the bowl, I just barely catch her and Yuri share a look- both wide-eyed, shock, horror, it’s hard to tell. “She’d been sick, too, probably a combination of that and not really eating anything more than a couple snack cakes for more than a week. It was- I think that’s the worst thing I’ve seen in person. She was so…  _ pitiful _ …”

I push the bowl away from me and put my head down on my arms for a minute. I need to… I don’t know, I need to do something. Not exist, not think for a bit, block everything out. Monika -presumably, since I can’t see- pats my back gently until I raise my head back up; when I do, she jumps a little. “Not physically or anything, but I think she tried to hurt me, and that might have helped set off the spiral. When she called to yell at me that day, the last thing she did was apologize for being sick, which isn’t new… but she said I would still be happy if she wasn’t.”

The girls look from me to each other and then back again. Monika hesitates, but seems to recognize the door I’ve opened. “Natsuki.”

“I think that’s what she meant. Like I’m not…” I rub my eyes with the hand that hasn’t been playing the fruit bowl. “Like I’m not happy with her.”

“Have you tried talking to her? Natsuki, I mean.” The question comes from Yuri, and for the third time today, I’m surprised. She’s really come out of her shell since high school, but especially in the last… few months…  _ fuck, _ I’m sure she’s mentioned her boyfriend, probably more than one, and I’ve just completely forgotten.

“Not since…” It’s the first time I’ve acknowledged this outside my own thoughts. “The last time I talked to her was the day before she broke up with me. I told her I loved her and I’d see her in the morning… fucked  _ that _ up.”

“She’s never stopped asking about you, MC.”

Monika chimes in with something immediately after, but I can’t process it. It feels like everything has stopped- no, like  _ I’ve _ stopped, but the world is still moving around me.

The crush comes back, and it’s all I can do to keep myself from hyperventilating, skipping crying entirely. My entire body shakes- worrying, since it’s usually just my hands.  _ She’s never stopped asking… _

“MC?” Monika shakes me lightly, one hand on my shoulder? “MC? Are you okay?”

“She-” I clear my throat; my voice is suddenly hoarse, likely a result of how dry my throat has just as rapidly become. “Natsuki really still asks about me? Both of you?”

“At least once a month.” Yuri nods.

“Sometimes more. She asks if you ever talk about her, sometimes, too.”

Oh…  _ god _ . “D-do… do you tell her no?”

Monika’s face resembles the way I feel, a deer in the headlights of a bullet-train. “No, I- I try to talk around it. I did the first time without really thinking, and it didn’t… she didn’t take it well.”

“Not to-” Can’t seem to get my throat cleared. “Not to say the two of you aren’t  _ super _ helpful when it comes to Sayori, but Natsuki was…” My voice cracks every third word, and my chest just feels  _ tight _ now. “She was to me what I am to Sayori, she just… she never complained, she was always so…” I tear up, and it’s a fight to stop it there. I bite the inside of my cheek and take a deep breath through my nose.

“I’ll tell her to call you later.” Monika motions for Yuri to pass her bag around the table, pulling her phone out of the top pocket when she does.

“No, I couldn’t ask you-”

“Already done. I just said you’re having a tough time, and you might appreciate it if she called you this afternoon.” Monika smiles, then zips her phone back up into her bag. “I’ve gotta run if I want to get back to school in time for my next class, though. It was nice seeing you guys again! We should do this again sometime soon… maybe things won’t be so gloomy next time.”

“I’m sorry, guys, I just- it  _ was _ easier to do this in person. Not easy, but…  _ easier _ .”

We all stand up at the same time, and once again, Yuri is the one to take charge, taking everyone’s plates and dumping them in a bin near the counter. We all leave together, Monika quickly blending back into the crowd after a quick goodbye, but Yuri and I linger near the cafe’s entrance, neither of us really sure what to say.

“MC, I’m…” She sighs, twirling her hair around one finger. Guess some habits never die. “It doesn’t feel sincere to say it, but I’m sorry. I had no idea, about any of that. I wouldn’t have tried to get you to talk about it if-”

“No, no,  _ no, _ don’t… I don’t want you upset too, Yuri… can’t deal with that, on top of everything else. I shouldn’t be so obtuse, ‘no everything is awful but I won’t explain it’ and stuff like that, it’s just- it never feels right telling people about what Sayori’s going through, even when I know she’s keeping you updated on her own. It’s not  _ my _ struggle, you know? It’s humiliating sometimes, and she gets so worked up over stuff that no one but the two of us and her therapist know about, and I- I just want her to be okay. I just want her to be happy and okay again, and every time we take a step closer to that, it’s like something sets us three steps back…”

Yuri herds me a few feet away from the cafe before hugging me, and I try not to cry into her shoulder the entire time. “She’ll be okay, MC-kun. She just needs a little help sometimes, and I don’t think there’s anyone else in the world better suited to provide it than you. I don’t want to overstep any boundaries by saying this, but maybe if you worry a little less about her hang-ups and more that she stays on her medications, that might help in the long run. Not that you can’t do both, just seems like one would be more helpful than the other… no matter how upset she is by something, it’s only going to get worse if she becomes destabilized again.”

“That’s… really good advice, Yuri. Th-thank you.”

She squeezes me a little tighter, then lets go. “Of course. I’m sure you know more about her condition than I do, but sometimes it helps to have an outside perspective.”

“Y-yeah…” Man, if I hadn’t talked to  _ her _ in years, I don’t know if I could handle new, confident Yuri. It’s a massive departure from the girl Sayori introduced me to in the Literature Club. Then again, I guess the only one of us who  _ hasn’t _ changed that much is Monika. “Well, I’ll let you get back to school. I should’ve told Monika before she left, but I really appreciate this… this is the first normal day I’ve had in months. Feels like I’ve been on autopilot for weeks…”

“Do you want me to walk you home? I’m actually done with classes for the day…”

“W-would… would you mind?”

“Of course not. I don’t think I’ve seen your new place, since you moved last year.”

“Oh, it’s nothing spe- thanks, Yuri.” She offers me the crook of her arm, and I hook mine through it. “Really. I guess we’ve both been stuck in a loop lately.”

“Don’t worry about it, MC-kun. I’m just glad at least one of you is okay.”


	9. (9) If It Means A Lot to You

Sayori called me Wednesday. Already asking when I’m coming back to see her. She sounded tired.

One of the three classes I had Thursday was canceled the evening before, so I decided to skip the others and catch the train first thing in the morning to Kawasaki to see her. Turns out you can’t just visit people there without scheduling ahead of time, even for voluntary committals, so I made an appointment for Saturday and headed back home. The almost-hour I had to wait for the next train was unpleasant, to say the least- never would have thought about setting up an appointment to visit Sayori. It would’ve been worse if I told her I was coming and wasn’t allowed to see her, but it was still mildly heartbreaking.

By the time I got back home to Machida, I was feeling a little better, so I stopped by Sayori’s apartment one last time to finish her laundry. When I leave, the place is spotless, cleaner than I can ever remember it being, even on a good day. All the trash is gone, I cleaned out all the expired food in the fridge and the cabinets, all her clothes are pressed and folded or hanging in the closet… maybe went a little too hard on that last one, arranging everything by color. I’m not exactly sure why I did that, but I can’t deny there’s something pleasing about it.

My work done, I headed back to my own apartment for the first time in a week- or, at least, for the first time in a week longer than it took me to grab a change of clothes or two. Comparatively,  _ my _ place is a mess now, three days dirty clothes scattered around my bedroom prior to last Thursday, notes and books throughout the house- stacked on my little living room table, the desk in my bedroom, the nightstand to the side of the bed. I spent the next few hours tidying up -much less work than Sayori’s place, five days in the making- and by six, I was so tired I skipped dinner and went to bed.

  
  


I wake up nearly fourteen hours later. At first, I’m a little disoriented, the muscles in my back sore from lying too long in the same position, head filled with dreams of better days. The sun streams in through a crack in the curtains, what little can get through the blinds behind them, right across my eyes. I check the time on my phone with a groan and turn over, away from the blinding light of day that’s forced its way into my blackened sanctuary. But the ache in my back doesn’t go away, and after a spell of tossing and turning, I slide my legs over the side of the bed and sit up. There’s a text notification on my lock screen when I check my phone again, and I unlock it without fully parsing the details-

 

_ From- Natsuki _

_ 8:03: Hi MC. _

 

Head still half-buried in sleep, I don’t know what to do with that, so I let it sit as I get up, stagger to the shower, and go about my normal morning routine. Any other Friday, I would’ve been in a lab already by the time that text came in, but this is one of the few weeks I don’t have one for that class -Anatomy, a required science credit I put off for too long already- and I take my time. The only other class I have on Fridays is ten-thirty to noon, and today I’m working from twelve-thirty to five-thirty.

I feel a lot better after I step out of the steamed-up bathroom, even if there’s still a little bit of a twinge when I turn to my left. Guess I just needed sleep a lot worse than I realized… mild pain in my side aside, I feel better than I have all week.

 

_ To- Natsuki _

_ 8:32: Hi. _

_ 8:33: How are you? _

 

I ran through three dozen possible conversations while I was getting ready, but I still don’t know what else to say. I know what I  _ want _ to say, a thousand different apologies, an explanation for how bad things have gotten lately, more apologies, but trying to dump everything on her all at once seems like an incredibly foolish thing to do. Part of me thinks we might go right back to the way we used to be, but the other part reminds me how much Yuri has changed in recent months alone. I haven’t talked to Natsuki in close to two years… almost as long as the two of us dated.

I’m just second-guessing myself now.  _ Anything _ is the wrong thing to say. If I let myself think like that, this is already pointless.

I leave the apartment shortly after sending the second text, hoping that putting myself out in public will give me something else to focus on, however temporary that might be, and let me not worry myself sick in the meantime. I make it to the bus stop a few minutes before it rolls up, which is nice after the long wait for the train yesterday. The stop I get off at is a couple blocks from my school’s campus, but it’s the best I can do this time of day. Even with the walk, I end up outside the classroom twenty minutes early; I spend the wait flipping through forums on my phone looking for cheap ways to brighten up Sayori’s apartment for when she’s able to come home. Not like there’s much else I can do with twenty minutes.

Five minutes into the class, I realize I could -and probably should- have skipped this today. I didn’t realize, or maybe just didn’t remember, this is one of four weeks throughout the semester that we have a guest lecturer. Like Anatomy, Poetry Analysis I is a class I  _ should _ have taken long ago, but if I’m being honest with myself, I’ve never been that into poetry. After graduating high school -and no longer bearing the responsibility of writing a new poem for the Literature Club every week- I lost all interest in it. The club  _ did _ make me realize how much I enjoy literary analysis, though, which is how I ended up majoring in Literary Studies and with a minor in Elementary Education.

For whatever reason, the guest lecturer this week is from the Library Studies department. It seems… needlessly arbitrary, like the school is trying to convince students in my major to reconsider their choices. I don’t  _ think _ too many people go into Literary Studies with the intent of becoming a critic… seems more likely to me that it’s a specific literary field-related interest, something one might want to teach. 

Maybe I’m being too cynical. I’m sure there  _ are _ plenty of people taking this their first or second semester that aren’t sure what they want to do once they graduate, or if they’re even in the right major. I guess, to be fair, I wasn’t either, my first semester. Sayori and I both enrolled as Language Arts majors our first semester, though I switched before finals.

Either way, being a librarian is something I  _ never _ considered, and try as I might, I can’t make myself interested in this. I make it to eleven-thirty before I give up and quietly make my way out of the classroom. It works out for the better- instead of having to power-walk the couple miles between school and the 7-Eleven I work at, I can take my time.

 

_ From- Natsuki _

_ 10:45: Okay. Sorry I didn’t call earlier in the week… been crazy at work. Head chef quit, and I’m technically in charge. _

 

I’m not quite stunned, but somewhere close. The interview Natsuki was supposed to go to the day I missed our breakfast date was for a prep cook… wonder if she’s moved up in the same place, or if this is something different.

 

_ To- Natsuki _

_ 11:40: Wow, that sounds like a lot of responsibility. _

 

_ From- Natsuki _

_ 11:47: You have no idea. I’m about to start my shift, so I gotta go. Text back if you want, I’ll get to you when I’m on break later. _

_ 11:49: Actually, do you maybe want to grab lunch tomorrow? We’d have to go early… and you’d have to come down to Chigasaki. My treat, though. _

 

_ To- Natsuki _

_ 12:03: Sure, what time? _

_ 12:07: Ah… actually, I’ve got something to do Saturday morning in Kawasaki. I don’t think I could make back to you in time. Assuming you probably work the same time tomorrow. _

_ 12:08: Sunday? _

 

I don’t have too much time before my shift starts, and the five hours I’m on the clock pass much quicker than the hour and a half I spent in class. My mind wanders from time to time, what Sayori might be doing, when Natsuki might text me back, but for the most part, I have enough work to do to keep me occupied.

The bus back to my apartment shows up about fifteen minutes after I get off shift, a quarter-hour earlier than I expected, and I spend the time it idles flipping through a few more ideas on my phone. Lots of flowers, arrangements I don’t think I’ll ever be able to pull off, even with help. Others are silly, like covering the floor of her bedroom with paper cranes… too much work, and such a waste of paper. Burying the bed in a layer of candies might work, although I think letting Sayori pick out a couple dozen yen’s worth of candy from a shop might have the same effect.

Unless I come across something that gives me pause, I think I’ll leave things where they are for now. Her apartment is cleaner than I can ever remember it being, her closet and dresser are organized. Whenever she decides she’s ready to come home, we can stop and pick up food on the way home, and I’ll cook whatever she wants.

Back home, I take another shower -usually only take one, but I was so beat last night that I didn’t even think about it- and throw on some casual clothes. Having been at Sayori’s all week, I only just now realize I didn’t do my usual Sunday morning grocery shopping, and the only thing in the cabinets is a single cup of instant ramen. In a few words, it’s dry and disappointing. I think about ordering takeout after choking half of it down, or going out to get something, but it’s after seven now, and I can’t be bothered. I had  _ something _ , anyways, so it could be a lot worse.

Today felt like I stepped into an alternate universe and got stuck in the liminal space between it and home. My apartment feels foreign, even though I know it like the palm of my hand, an unsettling sense of  _ jamais vu _ . It fills my chest, fighting with a sense of hope I don’t know if I’m ready to hold onto yet.

It feels like the rain has stopped, for the first time in a long time, but I can still see the clouds lingering overhead, dark, angry. I’ve been here before,  _ we’ve _ been here before.

Tomorrow will be better. There’s only so much further down we can go, but I think we came close enough to the bottom. Now it’s time to climb back up.

Tomorrow  _ will _ be better.

 

_ From: Natsuki _

_ 00:22: Sorry MC, just got home. Sunday morning breakfast? _


End file.
